


my wasted heart will love you

by 13letters



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Awkward situations, Cassian's Fake Fiancé, Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Hospitals, Inspired by "While You Were Sleeping" and Christmas, Law Student Jyn, Old Ben and Baby Ben!, Poe's Jacket Was Once His Dad's, Resident Pediatric Surgeon Cassian, Wedge "Tore Up From the Floor Up" Antilles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13letters/pseuds/13letters
Summary: "Oh, my God," Luke says loudly to quiet down Leia's panic and Bail's worry, Jyn's hasty explanation to apologize for this being -- just, like -- so, so wrong, she's so sorry, oh, God."What?" Cassian whispers, honestly looking like he'll cry right here on this hospital bed."Oh, my God," Luke repeats theatrically. For good show, he crosses one hand over his heart and says this like it pains him, "he's got amnesia."





	1. White Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> The _While You Were Sleeping_ AU nobody asked for. Merry Christmas!

"If you can hear me," she whispers. As she brushes his too-long hair from his eyes, presses her fingertips over his cheekbone just like he would to her, a scant, delicate kiss of skin to skin, stitches and shrapnel. "Then you have to wake up, Cassian. You have to. Like honestly, what the _hell_ ," she sniffs, doing her best to crack a smile complete with her breaking voice.

The bargain here was that they'd never have to be alone again -- forever was the beautiful, grinning, brown-eyed promise he gave her with _this ring, does he wed_. A red dress in August, seventeen months, and the rest was supposed to be an _ever after_ and a happy ending predestined; all of life has led to this feeling of being so utterly ensconced by love, so eternally ruined by it that it's glorious and blistering and breathing: living, tangible, tumultuous love in the afternoon.

Love in the quiet moments of midnight where he would spend the early morning hours softly kissing her face and confessing to her that he thinks he's beautiful.

Love during the loud moments of passion or even anger -- any way to prove to her just how much he cares for her even at the worst. Even when love is sometimes ugly.

The IV drips steadily, slowly, rhythmic with the soft thuds of his heart in time to the rises and falls of the monitor -- his lifelines sketched out in bright green.

"I'm really very sorry," she finds herself admitting to his comatose body, since all of this -- the hospital atmosphere, the clinical, sterile white, how ghastly his coloring is in these fluorescent lights. It's starting to affect her in the worst possible way because this beautiful, kind, severe person is here because of her. Is in a coma because of her, love or no love.

This is so much further from the fantasy she's created in her head about their would-be marriage because he was supposed to live for all of it, every intricately planned detail because she's been in love with him since the day he first said _large coffee, black. A chocolate chip muffin, as well, please_ to which she would say, _of course. That's $3.17, for here?_ And it was. Almost everyday for the last five months without fail.

"Oh, no," she whispers to him. To her bloody fool self. "Oh, help."

 

"The usual?" she had asked him kindly when he walked into her life yet again, dark blue scrubs and circles under his eyes, a scarf around his neck, and his smile the softest sort of muscle memory. As he walked in, he trekked half of the snow outside with him, shook snowflakes out of his hair and dusted off his coat.

He was right on schedule and looked like he needed it; on these particularly tired, strained days, he would murmur _gracias_ instead of making small-talk conversation, but she knew he meant well just the same.

He was Cassian Andor, a resident pediatric surgeon who came into the coffee shop Mudpuddles even on his off-days, during near every break he received. Sometimes he dressed for work, and others he dressed like a regular civilian, but no matter his time or his mood (which she can now discern from just the set of his mouth, oh, God), he always greets her by name, always tips, and always becomes the subject of this life she someday wants: the monotony. The routine. A husband and a family, but most importantly, a degree in law.

Jyn Erso is a second year law student who obsessively watches _Game of Thrones_ in the strange constraints of her tiny flat with her awful, perfect roommate, Bodhi Rook. The day she came home and told him that the most beautiful man walked into the shop, he insisted she get his number if he comes back in -- or better yet, write her number on his cup, but he suggested all of this like it were simple. The easiest thing in the world.

Just toss your line into the sea and hook a fish, except he doesn't talk like that, not all.

And without bothering to see if she liked Andor because of sex appeal, success, hormones (he saves babies daily, come on), or harmless convenience -- she's the child of divorce; she really never wants a relationship since what's the point -- someone ends up hurt -- she nonchalantly flirts with him by calling him Caspian, Cassiopeia, and McDreamy, and he smiles in return like she's cute, like he can handle this noncommittal interaction daily (he has enough energy for this, at least), like he can think _oh, well, maybe they'd have a shot if he wasn't always on-call and she wasn't always hunched over textbooks when she wasn't serving coffee._ Maybe, he thinks, just cut and run, smile at the pretty barista, and try to feel like a properly functioning member of society who's gotten more than six hours of sleep in three days.

Or maybe they don't know how to talk to each other.

As he pulls the bills out of his sensible wallet, he murmurs, "Merry Christmas Eve," just because it's the holidays. He doesn't quite smile, but his mouth doesn't quite do anything else, either.

"Merry Christmas," she wishes him.

His name is called for his coffee. With the crumpled bills in his hand, she thinks to ask him if he has any Christmas plans, but he's wearing his scrubs. He's working. Of course. And like he knows it, his shoulders shrug a little because there isn't much else to do but leave. "Keep the change," he tells her.

He's out with the cold air he brought in. And she frowns just _so_ at his retreating back through the glass -- Mariah Carey now declares all she wants for Christmas is likely Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome; it's a sign, it has to be, that or the fact she's suddenly standing here with four crumpled a-dollar bills and one note for one-hundred.

The President's face is stoic, too, like he knows it can't be right. Poor man counted it out all wrong; she -- she has to give it back. She'll see him again.

"Something wrong?" Jess asks her from the fridge, glancing disapprovingly down at her own nails.

"Yes," Jyn says, starting to hurry now as she clenches the bill in her hand, dares herself just a quick look in the mirror before she bolts for the door. "I'll be right back, Jess! Cassian," she shouts for him.

He'd gone left, him and his hideous beige scarf; she can see them on the crosswalk now towards the hospital across the street, thank God.

" _Andor_!" she shrieks, wishing she'd at least grabbed her coat or something as she run-walks at him. "Stop!"

He has stopped, bless him, even if his confused look transcends time and distance. "Jyn?"

"You've given me the wrong amount!" she explains, only a few yards away now. His frown, frighteningly, looks a great deal too nice with his jaw line, so _honestly_. Let this be over so she can cry into the coffee grounds or something. She's bound by ethics to hand this back and no more. "You have to take it back."

"I said to keep it," he contradicts slowly. "It's Christmas. Bye, Jyn," he says to her.

Or at least, she thinks he might have wished her good-bye if that car didn't come out of nowhere.

 

There was his blood on her apron, her hands, and her phone, smeared red over the screen where the dial for 9-1-1 was -- just so they'd know what happened even as an oncoming truck stopped to pick Cassian up so they could drive him to the emergency room across the street.

It's the most terrible four minutes of her life, but none of the nurses ask her anything like if she pushed him in front of the car or not. They just thank her, ask her if she's family, and when she answers that she isn't, they quit paying attention to her altogether.

People are running in of the room and out, they're demanding specialty heads come down for this because it must be different -- that it's one of them -- she can see he lost one of his truly hideous dark blue Croc shoes; she can hear there's no response when they prod at his legs or shine a light in his eyes though his pulse is strong.

"I can't believe this happened," one of them says to nobody in particular, to Cassian maybe. "On Christmas Eve, too."

It's then one of them catch her staring right through the open curtains because they close them quickly. Understandably to give him privacy since Plastics has just come in to see about his face. From what she could tell by the look of the glass under his eye, the mark will scar. It will likely leave permanent damage.

There really isn't anything else she can do to help since she's helped enough. If she had just kept the money like the greedy defense attorney she's still internally debating herself with over the potential of being, if she had just taken a second to realize he was still on the fucking road when she stopped him, then "Damn it," she whispers, pressing her hands to her eyes. "This shouldn't have happened. One day, we were supposed to get married," she sighs, inhaling a shallow breath.

And four feet away at the nurse's station, this poor woman in pastel scrubs dies a little inside. She comes around the desk cooing, "Oh, honey," with her eyes starting to tear up, "How awful. Oh, my goodness, how awful! Your fiancé? And on Christmas Eve? Come with me, dear."

 

_"If you can hear me," she whispers, sitting awkwardly at his bedside, "then you have to wake up, Cassian. You have to. Like honestly, what the hell."_


	2. Silver Bells

So the facts. What she knows for certain after talking to a police officer, the charge nurse, and his sleeping, beautiful, broken body.

"I bet you're wondering what I'm doing here," she says to him. "Or if you can actually hear in there, then you do know, and I'm -- I'm sorry. I didn't mean we were getting married one day like we're -- white tulle," she stammers, frowning down at herself, her hand gentle upon his hand. Without the pass of cash or coffee between them, this is like, the most intimate they've ever been.

Or _not_ since all of the nurses outside believe they're the most romantic love story to ever walk the halls. It's obvious so many of them watch _Grey's Anatomy_ , but how can she begrudge them their small comforts when she knows better than most that anything to seem less lonely is better than the stark, frozen alternative: abandoned, aching, mostly. Alone even on Christmas; she'll hear the bells on Christmas Day.

"Roses," she continues, actually rather hating herself. "I pictured a traditional wedding, actually, but now that I can see you, you know, like this, more relaxed since they say it's a coma, which -- frankly, anything for a decent sleep, right? I understand that, too, the sense of _lunch breaks, haha, what are those?_ and.. I'm sorry," she whispers again, putting some much-deserved distance between them.

"I'm not suggesting you're here on purpose. I hope you won't blame me," she frets as she smooths her hair back from her face. And giving up on that mess entirely, she shakes out her black scrunchie, cards her hair behind her ears with a resolute sigh. "You look like a beach wedding, honestly, Andor. Seaside, sand, khaki pants and a loosely unbuttoned white shirt. Eternally bare feet, and I've just the white dress, actually, if.. well."

His face is bruised and battered. His ribs are taped, and he looks like hell, honestly. He's so still he might otherwise be dead. He could be on the brink of it, for all she knows. Lying here, still as sleep, and she's the only one here to help him, should he need it. Should he need someone near him to make all of this hurt any less -- it's too easy, now, to romanticize how kindred in spirit they must be. The dark shadows of his sleeping face convey a tired, lonely sense of abandonment, and she can recognize that in him and in herself, she --

"I wouldn't want to be here alone," she murmurs. Once more, with no small measure of hesitance, just the faintest, errant breath of caution. She sets her hand gently ontop of his, squeezes, and then nearly falls out of her chair.

"Cassian!"

"Cass, son! Are you alright?"

"No running through the hospital! There are sick people here!"

"Oh, dear, look at him lying there. So still! Is he dead, Leia?"

"He's dead! We're too late! Oh, my God! Did you hear that, gran? How did this happen again?"

"Get off the phone, Han! He's not dead, look at the heart monitor!"

"Look at his face. Jesus."

"Excuse me," the sweet-faced nurse from earlier insists. Only this time, there's a proper ruckus compromising the season's merriment and this smooth-sailing ICU ship akin to hell broken loose: a Kraken throwing itself from the depths and fathoms below, Benedict Cumberbatch as the Grinch who's trying to eat Christmas. "I'm sure this young man appreciates all the concern you're showing him, but we have a strict family-only policy. I'm going to have to ask you folks to please leave, and Merry Christmas."

"Oh," Bail begins with that dashing politician's charm, that genuine sincerity that has even Jyn pausing to listen from Cassian's bedside. "Well I'm his -- his step-father," he smoothly lies, please, ma'am."

"And I'm his step-sister," Leia agrees without missing a beat, her voice strong yet soft. Jyn thinks she looks as if she had been crying. "Can you please tell us what happened?"

"I'm sorry, but the rest of you will have to go."

"I'm her twin brother," Luke cuts in, sunny hair, heinous Christmas jumper. "I'm staying."

"And I'm their honorary grandfather," Ben says, and like a gust of Christmas wind, Leia laughs a little tearfully, reaches around her dad for his hand.

"He stays, too," she says.

"And he's my uncle," says Wedge, indicating towards Bail even though he's here as part of the family brunch as Luke's best friend, "so Cassian, he's my half-"

"Step," Bail whispers.

"Step-nephew."

"Cousin."

"We're related," Wedge assures the nurse, so naturally, everyone looks to who's left: Han who, Leia notes with a dredge of endeared, starry-eyed adoration and disappointment, is beginning to look panicked.

"I'm his step-husband," he blurts confidently.

"You aren't his husband," the nurse replies like it's obvious. "She's --"

"I'm her husband. His step-sister's husband." A little too unsurely, though, he points to Leia with this _grin_ that makes both her and Luke roll their eyes.

Old Ben's holding Leia's very bare left hand, however, but since it's all settled, he reasons, now that they've all established that they are this young man's family, would she mind just walking them through as simply as possible how one of his favorite sons becomes the victim of a hit and run in broad daylight _on Christmas Eve_ and survives only by the skin of his teeth? "That young man has been fighting all of his life," Ben tells her.

"Surely," Leia continues, just holding on -- holding tight -- God, _help_ , "there's hope, isn't there? He will wake up?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Han sympathetically, uncomfortably sighs. "We know him. He'll wake up any second now, I bet. He's been through worse than this."

"Than a coma?" Wedge swallows, looking tearful. "On Christmas?"

"Well, Christmas Eve," Jyn automatically corrects. It's a distinction that might not otherwise matter, but since this is the season of miracles, she just thought.. hope. She thinks, he isn't alone after all, so her hands are figuratively clean. No more obligation, just a better luck next time, and a -- a free coffee when he's better, too. His did spill his, really.

The six pairs of eyes which hadn't even spared her a glance because they loved this man so much are now _staring_ at her with equal measures of curiosity and blame, though. It's quietly for only a beat, the drip of the IV, before it begins.

"Who's this? Dad --"

"Were you the driver? Ma'am, I'm gonna need to see licenses, registration, proof of insurance --"

"You've been so lovely to sit with him, dear --"

"Hey now," Han starts loudest of all, "we go through all that ceremony proving we can even stand outside his door, and you're letting strange women inside?"

" _Han_."

"No," Jyn interrupts quickly, seizing this chance like salvation to gracefully bow out and apologize yet again. They don't need to know she indirectly lied her way in or anything of the sort. This is really fucking insane, and Bodhi's going to laugh so hard when she tells him all of this: her pathetic existence, the loving loudness of this family, _him_ in a coma like? How does this even happen? That car came out of nowhere! "You're absolutely right," she directs towards him, him with the nose and angry finger point. "I'm sorry for intruding, so I'll just be on my way."

"Now wait," the nurse frets. "You just sit back down, miss, and don't let this lot put you off. You have every right they do to see this patient."

"No," she tries again.

In retrospect, however, when Jyn will lay in bed thinking on the many regrets of today, she'll realize with terror that she didn't try very hard. Oh, God.

"Family?" Luke asks, looking at her. "You're family?"

" _No_ , I'm --" _I make his coffee. I tell him sometimes that he looks like he needs to sleep. I'm the very much damaged result of a man who valued ambition more than he valued love, so while I jested that I love Cassian, I meant it in the same way as I love Ryan Gosling or cats. There's no chance of me marrying him, plus I'm allergic. Please._

Any of that would have been more appropriate, more socially acceptable, more _anything_ else, 'cause the looks on these people's faces when the nurse clears her throat, raises her voice just so like she's some authoritative, first-hand witness.

"She's his fiancé," the nurse answers for her, jutting out her hip.

 

So, the facts: "Bodhi," she whisper-shouts into her phone from the women's restroom. "Pick up! We have an emergency. We have a situation. I suppose in sum, uh, congratulations? It's a husband. I'm now engaged and part of a family like fucking Bridget Jones' end of year tally. Weight loss -- plus one. Number of boyfriends -- plus one fucking fiancé, Bodhi; please call me. I'm not too sure what I'm supposed to do with this. Okay. I love you. Bye. Fucking hell."


	3. It's the Most Wonderful Time

Leia actually begins to cry.

It's really quiet, at first -- she still has debutante graces and better manners than God, but it's just -- this is a softer world.

And there are people Leia has lost and found again, tried to hold onto even in death and amidst the unhappiness and the panic and the phone calls and the heat. The summer she learned she had a brother, she spent most of that year crying, too; she doesn't always have to be the strong voice of resolve, but all the same.

Han sees his poor girl slowly cracking at the edges, and he interprets it all wrong. See, she did used to love Cassian in much the same way one loves the sun, but he's come to understand that fact as Cassian means _home_ to Leia. And Bail. So, "Sweetheart," he calls her tenderly, "no, no. This is a happy day, remember?"

"Actually, I thought it was the worst fucking day of his life," Wedge says quietly. He pats his uncle's arm before he crosses the small room to Cassian's bedside opposite Jyn. He looks as if it pains him, to be so close to his dead best friend, but he takes Cassian's hand gently. Then he reaches for Jyn's with just about the kindest smile she's ever seen. "He's one of my best friends," he explains to her.

"No, this is a happy day," Ben states as he peers down at her. "How fortunate we were all able to meet. Now you don't have to wait alone anymore, dear."

"At least we found you," Bail agrees. Then, "At least Cassian found you," he amends. Family never has been blood when it comes to Cassian, and that's something Bail knows. Even at the worst, he has to think, then at least they're able to welcome this girl with sad eyes into their misshapen, broken family.

"Do you think he looks happy?" Leia wonders, coming forward so she can hold onto Cassian's feets at the foot of the bed. "All things considered? I'm Leia, by the way," she introduces. "And that's my brother, Luke," he doesn't wave, just stands critically staring at Jyn because what the _fuck_ , "our.. Ben. We love him," she sniffles, grinning. "He knew our father. And that's my dad, Bail, and his nephew, Wedge, having his little prayer circle with you. Think good thoughts, Wedge."

"Only the best," he murmurs, staring at Cass's broken face.

"And?" Han presses.

"Oh," Leia laughs, real watery and light. "He's Han. My boyfriend, I think."

"That's lovely," Jyn tries, but Han cuts her off with his theatrics.

" _Boyfriend_ is such a juvenile term."

"You aren't married?" Jyn asks, thinking _thank God_. They lied to get in here, too.

"Not yet," Han says.

"Not at all," Leia frowns like she hates him. Only she doesn't hate him, _not at all_. If you're a woman, you understand.

"Every time she asks me, I say no."

"Oh, that's not what happened," she tries to assure Jyn as she smiles despite herself. " _I_ did mention it but only because I'm a very practical person. Because things like taxes and a lifetime and --"

"Honey," Han interrupts quietly. "You're gonna scare her off. You okay? I know we didn't get to eat yet," he murmurs, and Luke knows.

When the rest of them crowd around the bedside, and Han kisses Leia's forehead, holds her around her waist so he can touch her stomach, Luke knows.

"I think he likes hearing the talking," Bail supposes.

Jyn nods. The moment has to be right. The second she breaks these people's hearts has to be the right moment, or she'll fracture in half, too. "His color has improved a bit since they let me in."

"Because you're his fiancé," Luke interprets.

And she -- she at least aims for one truth. When she looks down to Cassian in shame, in sorry, they see it as heartbreak and the tearful introduction and insert of her life intangibly into theirs. "I'm Jyn. Jyn Erso," she starts. "Me and Cassian, we --"

"Oh, don't worry, dear. You don't have to talk about it if it hurts too much right now. We understand," Ben says to her.

Wedge, he's starting to get misty-eyed, too. "You must really love him," he tells Jyn. "Thank God you met."

"It was lucky, I suppose."

"And romantic?" Leia encourages.

"Well," she says. "Er, yes. Excuse me? I need to go to the ladies'."

They all just, like, smile at her. As she goes to leave. Walking as fast as she can to get away from those crazy, loud, positively wonderful people.

She forgot, she really did, about what a family sounds like, okay. _Okay._ This will be fine.

So the facts:

 

"I love her," Wedge whispers. "She's perfect."

"Uh," says Bail intelligently.

"For Cassian! For him!"

"Isn't she?" Old Ben supposes. "She carries herself so well. I don't think anyone else could handle such a horrid situation with grace."

"I would be a mess," calls Leia, fanning her red, tear-stained face.

"Leia," Luke laughs. "You _are_ a mess, peanut." Since the nurse has allotted them two extra chairs, Luke takes the second Bail and Wedge step out to ask, "When did you find out?" while she just.. gushes. God, positively lights up with all the majesty of two suns, all the glory.

Across the room, Han's clutching Cassian's hand like this is truly life and death. "You've got to pull through this," he practically _begs_ , demands of God, yes, this blasphemous, skeptical man. Something about hospitals always turn him back to Lutheran, though, something about funerals, and feeling close to God for this prettyboy Catholic, this good, good man, the love of his life's dearest friend, is anything but penance. It's absolution.

Han bargains while Ben tries to deny it; why are they always so young -- was he ever that young, and was Anakin? Padmé? Christ, not this boy, he's _twenty-seven_ and he's _in love_ , please. Help him.

"We didn't run her off, did we?" Back in the room now, Bail looks around for Jyn. "I hope she didn't leave. Poor thing didn't have a coat. Anyone notice?"

"I noticed the blood," Wedge sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do we think she saw it happen? Do we, like. Ask her about it or?"

"We should invite her to dinner," Ben decides. "If he -- if young Andor doesn't." He can't bring himself to finish.

Han watches Leia intently rise from her chair like their kid will just, like, bottom out, he doesn't fucking know how it works, as she comes around to hold onto Ben's arms. "She shouldn't have to miss out on getting to know who will be her family just because Cassian's here. Just because it's Christmas."

"Exactly, dear."

"Yeah," Wedge cracks. "And when Cass wakes up and demands to hear all about the days and nights we spent crying over his bedside, you'll be the one to tell him we spent the first night of his ICU stay-cation tearing it up from the floor up with his girlfriend."

"I'm not suggesting we do shots," Ben amicably affronts.

"She looks like she could benefit from a home-cooked meal," Bail agrees. "It's the least we could do for her."

"Oh, my God," comes the sudden hysterical shout. All Jyn had seen when she finally felt brave enough to leave the bathroom was this man running through the halls, followed closely by the same hawk of a nurse who interpreted her little aside as a damned marriage vow. All the six of them see is another broken heart in the doorway, however, the brownest eyes in the Galaxy filling with tears as he good-naturedly shoves Han out of the way and cries, "Cassian, buddy, _no_ , man, what'd they do to you?"

"Sir!" the nurse snaps, so tired of this already. "I'm sorry. I know you're all deeply concerned, but I can not let anymore extended family members through these doors."

"I'm his brother," the man says, and Jyn barely catches it from the door as the nurse sighs, moves past her to leave. He's got his hands fisted in the thin gown over Cassian's chest, doesn't even try to _try_ to smile at his best friends in the world. "Tell me something good, guys. Oh, my God, buddy."

"Kes," Leia sighs, the same instant Han resolutely says, "Dameron."

"There's nothing good to report about his current state, not really," Bail apologizes.

Kes is in agony, though, as he touches Cass's face so softly: his cheek, his hair, his still hands with his shaking ones like fear is paralysis, "God _damn_ it."

"Hold on," Luke says, looking over to Jyn since now he's realized -- they all have -- that she's back in their lives once more.

If they notice any traces of guilt written across her face, they interpret it as heartache in the most profound way. Leia has to hold her hands over her mouth to stifle the cry of thinking of this girl as a widow. About her own age, and suffering such loss. "Jyn," she sobs again, " _Jyn_ , I'm so sorry."

"Who's this?" Kes asks, flickering his gaze up to her.

 _Nobody. I'm actually lying, sorry, I bring him coffee,_ "I just asked the nurse to bring him another blanket," she stammers, fucking _hating_ herself for being unable to worsen these folks' day. For almost wanting to get to know them, to live in their world of unconditional love for just a day.

"She's so thoughtful," Leia tells them all, crying freely now. Han kinda just reaches out for her even though she's across the room. He means it like _oh, God, please stop_ , however, not like, you know. _Baby, let me comfort you._ Pregnancy on the brain. "I just know you make him so happy, Jyn. I _do_ ," and when -- when Leia hugs her.

She might have pulled away, she really might have. She would have had Leia not smelled like vanilla, a scent Jyn can now so starkly remember the scent of in a scented memory of her own mother, so startling and so subtle and so previously forgotten that it hurts her. How _nice_ this feels, just a stranger's embrace.

"His hands _are_ cold," mutters Kes like he should have thought of it first. 

"This is your good news," Luke says while Jyn (despite herself) holds on. Holds tight.

"Don't cry, Jyn," Bail soothes, moving to tentatively hold onto her shoulder, the one Leia isn't sobbing into, the one that just gives way and opens, her chest cavity giving out to _hope_. God, _please_. This feels too good; she was so alone before now, so _cold_.

"She and Cass are getting married," Luke grins at him, so sure now that this is what's right. The happiness they all so desperately need. "Isn't that honestly wonderful?"

Kes kinda just watches them all. "What?" he squints.

Which they all see as a sign to reveal all they know about it at once. Leia and Jyn hold each other, still crying while Wedge lights up like the nurse's station Christmas tree, swears, "Jyn's great, we love her," while Ben, mostly teasing, really not, says, "Look at how happy he seems."

"Yeah, sure, but no, they're not?" Kes frowns, sniffling as he presses his stubbled cheek into his shoulder. "Cassian would have told me he was engaged."

"Based on what?" Luke dismisses with a laugh.

Jyn's heart actually stops, and sensing the tension and interpreting it in a very much different way, Leia murmurs, "It's okay."

"He's a private man. Besides, they were probably waiting to announce it on a special occasion, like Christmas Dinner's toast, right?" Luke asks Jyn.

So unsure, fucking fight or flight elevating her blood pressure, (can she defend herself in court when they press charges against her for being undeniably mad?) she meets his gaze over Leia's shoulder. She's _so close_ to telling all it's ridiculous. "Well," she swallows, throat hoarse. "Actually --" She's cut off.

Because just barely, so imperceptible she's not even sure she saw it properly, Luke nods. His blue eyes widen and seem to urge, _yes_. It's the truth.

 _It could be_.

In a different, better world, it could be, and maybe that's why her chest wracks with an unfair sob. Maybe that's why Leia holds her so closely, so sweetly smelling of vanilla, that it's unlikely she'll ever let go of her presence in their lives now.

Maybe that's why Jyn says, "Yes. We -- he wanted to wait to surprise you all. I'm so, _so_ sorry you all had to find out like this, truly," she swears as she bites her lip. "It was supposed to be better than this."


	4. Don't They Know It's Christmas

"Can you give us a minute?" Kes asks impatiently, too tongue-and-cheek to actually be friendly here, all things considered.

The people who believe so highly of Jyn, though, show him the same courtesy. "Of course, Bail murmurs with a slow exhale. "Of course. We can give you a moment alone with Cassian. We should each see him, then give him some peace by moving to the waiting room."

Kes rolls his eyes. "No, I meant can Jyn give all of us a minute alone."

" _Hey._ "

"Kes!"

"She's his fiancé!"

"The situation is worse enough without you upsetting everyone," Ben sternly (not like he's mad, just _disappointed_ ) chides him. "Now, we're all upset. We each have questions, but we're all here for Cassian. Think of what he would want."

"He'd want to tell me he was getting married. What if she's some psycho off the street who snuck in?"

"Dude," Wedge whispers ungodly loud, so anything but subtle. "She didn't. She helped get him here. She's literally wearing his blood."

"So she's a fetishist."

" _What_?"

Some of them laugh. Some of them grimace or try not to do anything at all but oh-mercy and sigh and pityingly look at Jyn like they're sorry, but it's a testament of loyalty to Kes that they don't openly disregard them. It's rather sort of love at first sight that they all take up arms to defend Jyn, though, wage war so strongly with a conviction she usually has to garner for her own self-defense.

"All I'm saying is that we lied to get in here," Kes points out. "Nothing against you, honey, but he would have told me. How do we know they're actually engaged?"

_You're right. You're absolutely right, and see, this was a misunderstanding that has gone on too far. No, I'm not normally a patient in the psychiatric ward, but I'm so sorry to have caused you pain._

Jyn could shout it. Scream it. Tattoo it into her skin as it would likely be easier than seeing their hurt faces when she does finally get around to telling them, or she could just throw herself out the window because fucking Bail Organa.

His face goes all light, so unwaveringly optimistic as it dawns on him. "He did say something about a girlfriend," he remembers. "A few months ago. I'll bet it was our Jyn."

"Okay, she isn't our anything."

"She's Cassian's," Luke says. Like what's the damage, man? Even Cassian won't need this much convincing. "She's ours, now."

Kes just looks around in disbelief. "None of you want to doubt this?"

"Oh, my God," Jyn actually says out loud. She cards her fingers through her hair, press the heels of her palms into her eyes.

"Fantastic job," Wedge snaps. "You've made her cry again."

"No," she insists, "I'm fine," though she's anything but. She forgot about Cassian's girlfriend, the one she fucking _introduced him to_ in the Java Bean one day. Christ. Jesus fuck.

"It hurts less to believe we've a new friend, sister, and daughter than the alternative," comes Old Ben's soft, intense reasoning. He has his own crosses to carry; it's true. But he's done asking Judas to crucify him, too, so he slowly rises from the chair. The metal grates loudly against the tile while his aging bones crack. "I'm going to pay a visit to the chapel," he decides.

"I'm about ready to pay a visit to the vending machine," Han snarks. "Anyone need anything?"

"Water," Luke asks.

"Please bring me coffee, sweetheart," Leia tells him, still by Jyn's side. "Do you want anything? You look frozen, Jyn."

"Coffee has caffeine in it, though."

"Han, I swear to God."

"No, thank you." Jyn barely even smiles, just thinks _oh, no._ Cassian will wake up and set the record straight and then likely call the cops. Call her fucking insane and take his presence out of her life entirely. She hasn't bothered to consider _what if_ Cassian never wakes up, however. What would happen to her lie, then?

Han's out and in with a bottle of water and a small cup of coffee in less than s minute. He says _wait_ , though; he forgot something, and Wedge is the only one to figure he leaves to meet up with Ben. To make better use of their praying knees.

"Look," Kes is finally guilty enough to apologize, the edges of his voice so tired and scared. "I'm sorry. It was just a surprise, is all. I didn't mean to imply anything untoward."

"A _fantastic_ surprise," Wedge says. "Cass is gonna wake me up and name me his best man, I just know it."

"Nah, it'll probably be Kay," Luke says.

Which Kes must interpret as another test since he asks her like she won't know the answer, "Speaking of, where is he?"

"Oh, probably at home," she answers so, _so_ casually it genuinely hurts. Both of her feet are in her mouth, and she's right out of the frying pan and into the fire. This is what, three lies now?

"Really. His flight from London to here was supposed to come in today."

"Cass didn't want him to stay in a hotel," she reasons. Her palms are going to bleed from how hard her nails are cutting into them. "He's probably at our home."

"Oh," he mutters, turning back to face Cassian. "Do you wanna call him? Tell him what's up?"

"I will," Luke offers quickly, but Jyn stupidly holds up her hand.

"It's alright. I will." On the counter by the sink is the plastic bag of all of Cassian's belongings and effects: his clothes, his watch, wallet, keys, phone. It's the latter she picks up because it shouldn't be complicated -- just pull up this guy Kay's contact in the list. Easy, tangible proof of her knowledge in this situation that should hold up in a court of law.

Until she hits the iPhone's home button, and it angrily buzzes at her once, flashes a white text warning of an inaccurate fingerprint reading. God fucking damn it.

"He's recently changed the passcode," she explains, trying _so_ hard to remain stoic and cool while she actually executes the worst thing she's ever done in her entire life ever. She takes Cassian's comatose, limp hand and presses his index finger against the phone's home button. "He left his phone by mistake at work the other day and felt his birthdate was too easy a code for someone to guess," she says emptily while she lays his hand back down upon the smooth white blankets.

Bail looks properly stunned. Kes seems rather horrified. Leia looks so adorably confused that its precious -- every single one of these souls are -- while Wedge, with Luke, just cracks. They're laughing so hard at the absurdity that soon they're all in hysterics with them. Gasping, delirious, open-mouthed snorts and giggles that have them doubling over and covering their mouths.

" _Oh, my God_ ," Luke practically cackles, so red in the face and so unspeakably happy all of a sudden that it _is_ hope. Flashing white and twinkling like a beckoning potential for only the best things in life.

"That was so terrible," Kes snorts. "That was the worst thing I've ever seen. If he was asleep, fine, but a coma?"

"That was hilarious," Wedge drawls, still chuckling contagiously to himself. "I haven't laughed so hard in minutes."

"He would have done the same," she assures them all like she's any sort of authority. It's a little too easy to smile and feign confidence while she dials Kay, but the tension has eased a bit -- expectations of her seem to have lowered. The line rings and rings, however, and just when she's about to chalk the missed call up to luck, Kay answers with a rushed, bored, _thank heavens._

_"Of course this flight was delayed. Do you know the statistics of holiday flights which depart or enter landing strips in timely fashion, Cassian? I'm somewhere over the Ocean, roughly three hours away, I think."_

It's actually now or never. Her heart beats so erratically that listening to Cass's steady monitor report is all that keeps her breathing calm -- one still point of focus. "Kay," she states calmly for the record, so help her, God. "This is Jyn. Cassian has been in an accident."

" _What? This is who?"_

"Jyn," she tries again, muffled and so, so sorry, biting her lip and closing her eyes -- think empathy. Think _I'm sorry_ bleeding its way from her bones. "Cassian has been in a very serious accident, Kay."

 _"Jyn from that coffee house?"_ he asks like he can't quite believe it, so wrongfully hung up on the piece of information that doesn't matter at all. _"He'd never."_

She does her best to look capable. Bodhi's always been amazed with her ability to argue without breaking into tears, so like. Time to fucking shine. Half of being a lawyer is about maintaining a lie, as well. Proof beyond a reasonable doubt. "He did."

 _"Oh, my God. And he ended up hospitalized?"_ Bastard actually sounds impressed. And smug. _"Was this a recent development? I didn't realize he ever spoke to you. I advised him against speaking to you, actually."_

The implication of that grates on her nerves. "It will just be best if you stop by when you land, Kay," she tells him. "Have a safe landing."

 _"I hardly have a choice."_ Just when she's about to hang up, his voice comes through softer -- a little bit afraid. _"How serious of an accident, Miss Jyn?"_

"Quite serious," she surmises, subconsciously having taken the same quiet, fearful whisper he built up his own defenses with. And now that she's begun, it's a bit like this damn of truth and feeling overflows in quick, lilting words. "It was terrible. One second he was facing me from the road, about to continue down the crosswalk, and the next, he's --" She was screaming. She remembers. Bloody murder: his own, metal and sparks and the collision like what ought to have been love's slow fall. "There was glass from the windshield and shrapnel from the car. He was taken like it was nothing, Kay."

And in the hospital room, they've all grown silent with her; they're each connected by this, somehow, this siren call of an ambulance blazing. Christmas lights turning into the panicked shades of emergency red, yellow, and blue. Even Kay, this stranger's name who she's said today for the first time but uses like she's known it forever -- the miraculous, scorched remnants of what could be fate.

"The car hit him, dead on. His ribs are bruised, Kay, with his face, with his.. his brain."

_"Jesus. How extensive is the damage?"_

She hesitates. "They aren't sure."

"For as much as he'll be paying, they better be sure," Kes mutters.

"He's in a coma, Kay."

_"Jyn."_

"We'll see you when you come in."

_"Who's we?"_

"Well, uh." More like who _isn't_. "Cassian's.. family. My family," she tries, closing her eyes so she doesn't have to see their faces break like their hearts. A chasm full of _so in love_ with her already that she's already theirs -- now she does let herself foolishly think it -- if Cassian never wakes, they can -- she can _stay_. "Good-bye. See you soon."

She hangs up the phone and sets it back in its proper bin. When she turns back around, there's Leia's red-rimmed eyes, Luke's quiet display of worry, Bail's cracking heart, and Wedge's strong silence. Kes is staring right at her, though, finally maybe sees her for the first time, 'cause he mumbles _yeah_ like _oh_ , God. He loves her. She is perfect.

 

She hadn't wanted to leave Cassian's bedside only so she could explain the truth to him first before the rest of them assailed him with heartfelt _congratulations_. They invited her out, though, their extended offer delivered by Bail, and every detail considered, every pro and con definably argued by her conscience, she reasons it would be more beneficial to say yes then politely refuse.

"You must want to change, first," Leia realizes. It's her own polite way of admitting the same to everyone. They reek of the hospital's clean, sterile stench, and crying is a rough look on anyone. Blood even moreso.

"Yes," Jyn says. "I'll just meet you where? Here?"

"God, no," groans Han. "You both have been crying for near seven hours. You need a break."

"You want someone to drive you?" Kes asks her as he stretches, yawns.

"I walked, actually, so I'm fine. But thanks."

"It's the least I could do," he counters. "Second that, take my jacket. You'll freeze without it, and then where will we be?"

 

"You're not going to take these?" Luke wonders aloud. Everyone else has said their good-byes, and Kes who wouldn't take no for an answer, he's pulling his car up to the main entrance. He said he would give her some time to say good night to Cass. "His belongings? His keys?" Luke presses.

"I was going to come back here after dinner to stay with him."

"You don't want to stay at his place? Both ya'll's place?"

"Not -- not without him," she uncertainly says. For truth, she murmurs, "It wouldn't feel right," and leaves it at that.

The steady drip of Cassian's IV is monotonous. His breathing doesn't sound as labored, but the silence here still amounts, threatens to drown her with all of her lies and Luke's blue-eyed trust.

"Listen," he says quickly.

"I'm sorry," she blurts with enough shame to cringe at herself.

"I don't really know what's going on here," he just outright states with no subtlety at all. "I don't know if it's just you guys broke up and it's awkward or _what_ , and I don't know if it isn't something even worse, but I know everyone in this room could breathe again when they found out you two were getting married."

"And I'm glad," comes her scarce whisper. "What happened to Cassian, that's terrible, so I'm glad they have something positive to redirect their grief onto." Even if it's gone too far.

"Jyn, everyone wants this to be true. They want something good and something hopeful," he just -- just _smiles_ , so full of conviction. "I'm telling you, this has to be true."

She stiffens involuntarily. "Why wouldn't it be true?"

"Jyn," Luke hushes. He begins to pace across the small room floor, genuinely looks like this will kill him, like it'll kill "Ben," he admits in utter agony. Pain more raw than she's been able to conjure up in grief for her own fiancé. "He's lost so much, Jyn. He's had two minor myocardial infractions this year alone. If he finds out that you and Cassian aren't really engaged and God forbid, Cassian never wakes up, it could _kill_ him."

 _For crying out loud_. "Surely not," she wants to believe. "He seems far too strong for that."

"Because he knows he's welcomed someone else into his life. Just like we all have, Jyn. It doesn't matter what it is, alright, if you tell him _after?_ that you're lying about the whole thing, then he'll be so glad Cassian's alive and well that he won't care."

"Lying?" she repeats, far too indignant for someone who's actually lying herself straight into an asylum. "I never!"

"Obviously!" he whisper-shouts. "He would have told Kes he was getting married. He would have told me! But Jyn, Ben's heart. He couldn't handle the shock. We don't need two of us to die."

"Luke!" That's it; this has gone too far. Cassian needs to wake up so he can explain this all to his crazy family himself. The misunderstanding. The lies! This nontraditional espionage, 'cause Kes knocks on the door and Jesus fuck.

"We okay?" he asks casually, leaning into the doorframe. "I was worried."

"Yes," Jyn agrees quickly, panicking as she starts with her hand over her heart. "Yes. God. We were only talking, I think."


	5. Silent Night

"Oh, shit," Kes swears, 'cause he's forgotten just how old this car is, how the last time he had a date, he had to pull a Kevin Bacon in _Footloose_ and run to unlock the passenger side door from inside. "Sorry about that. It kinda likes to choose who it lets in."

"Mmm."

"You want the heat on?"

"I'm fine," she insists, trying not to stare too elusively out the window.

"You want some advice?"

She doesn't quite frown at him, then, but she isn't quite grinning happily either. She sighs like this is the be-all, end-all of what would otherwise have been a perfect night spent on the couch with Bodhi with ramen with Tabasco. "I beg your pardon?"

"Family advice," he gripes like _come on_. He's making an effort here. "Not like, don't wear the color gray ever again since it washes you out _advice_. I'd want to know what to expect when visiting my fiancée's family."

"Seeing as we've all gotten acquainted, I'm not too worried," she dismisses a little stiffly. "You were the rude, short-tempered one at the hospital."

"And I apologized," he says, frowning all dark, sad eyes. "It's water under the bridge."

"I thought it was water over the dam."

"It's water wherever you want it. If Wedge tells you he was in charge of cooking anything, don't eat it."

"I have to. It's poor manners otherwise, and then what will they think?"

"Honey, they love you," he murmurs, slowing the car down in natural progression: lights gone green to yellow to red above the crosswalk where Cassian almost died hours ago. "They won't care what you do at this point. And trust me, they're very open-minded."

"They're redirecting," she contradicts. "Projecting love and happiness is easier than the alternative." And when they find out the truth, God help Ben's heart, they'll hate her, so yes. This is fantastic.

"Yeah? The alternative is scary. So what? Let them be happy. Let them fawn over you and refill your coffee and ask you if it's too warm or decorate a Christmas stocking for you. They're good people."

"Then I can eat Wedge's food," she tells him. It is a small penance. Not much of anything, really, but it's a start, because he smiles as he drives, taps his fingers subconsciously to the radio's lull of _All I Want for Christmas Is You_.

"Dinner will be really informal. Everyone talks over each other, so don't feel awkward. The bread goes quick, like, I've never met so many people who will happily commit death by yeast and butter, so you need to be quick. Oh, and at least offer to help with the dishes even though Ben will say not to bother, then you gotta hide, Jyn."

"Excuse me?" she laughs outright. "Hide from what?"

"Oh, it's gonna start so civilly. They're gonna ask if you want coffee in the living room, then they're gonna suggest a board game."

"A family game night? How charming," she teases despite herself, a little endeared by the notion. "How American."

"You have no idea. They're going to suggest _Monopoly_ , and it's gonna be hell. Like, actual hell. War will break out. Someone will get punched. If you steal the thimble piece from Leia, you won't have any hands anymore, and don't even think about robbing the bank."

"I'm a very firm believer in sportsmanship."

"Rules are made up as we go, and almost anything will get you thrown in jail. I tell you this because I care, Jyn."

He honestly looks so ride-or-die that it scares her. How intent and willing to take a bullet for her _at least_ that he looks. "Right."

"You miscount and land on the wrong piece, you're in jail. If you land on a spot skims one else is already on, you're in jail for causing traffic."

Not quite believing him still, she laughs with her cold, pale fingers interlocked in her lap. "That's ridiculous," she murmurs.

"And it's kinda like musical chairs."

"What is?"

"The game of _Monopoly_ we play. All Bail has to shout is, 'Switch!' before he pulls a chair out from under somebody and it's a mad race to scramble for a seat before he shouts at us all to get back down. All properties and currency per each seat transfer to the new player."

"But that doesn't make sense," she says as she curls her hair behind her ear. "What's the point?"

"To incite anger, I think."

"Honestly."

"No, like, I'm serious. And if you're still standing when the game resumes, all money and stuff at the vacant space go to the person on your right," he says. "These are the laws."

"How is that fun?"

Quickly, he gives her a pointed look before turning his eyes back to the road. "It's not. It's capitalism," he deadpans.

"Goodness," she winces, really not brave enough to laugh again. She'll stay for dinner, and that's it! "Nothing says Christmas like capitalism."

"Yeah, Merry Christmas. Bail's place is just up here, see the lights? I can't believe Cassian never brought you by."

"He meant to," she says. It might not _really_ been a lie. "We've just both been so busy. He has work, and I have school. Some days, we hardly see each other," which also isn't a lie, "but --"

"You make it work," Kes finishes. His breath freezes in front of his face; he's freezing in his sweater same as she's freezing in his coat, so it's a cruel joke. "That's sweet. What are you studying?"

"Law."

"So you're done with classes until January?"

"Until Cassian recovers," she chooses to say. Judging by the look on his face, it's the right answer -- the sentiment behind the thought. The _until_ and not an _if_.

 

She let her _Torts_ slam onto the table loudly, the shuddering sound enough to startle him awake with a guilty yawn and stretch and _hey_ real rugged, real sorry.

"You look like shit," she accused, setting a pity-party cup of coffee in front of him as she sat down in the pink cushioned chair.

"Service with a smile," he said, his own sweet _thank you_ without much preamble, an absence of wondering.

"You need to go home."

"I want to."

"Well, you're going to have to leave soon," she muttered only a little bitterly. Gesturing around to the vacant chairs and empty counter, she said, "I'm clearly very busy. Someone is going to need this table. Someone who doesn't look homeless nor narcoleptic."

"You couldn't go home for Thanksgiving?"

"It's only four days."

"You have no friends to keep you busy?"

"I'm also very popular," she quietly laughed, "seeing as all my friends are here."

"One," he agreed as he warmed his hands around the cup she brought him. "At least one," he smiled, this quiet, hidden thing. "Do you get to close up when I leave?"

"Not until six."

He nodded like he understood; oh, life's little quirks and woes. She opens her textbook, and he drinks the slightly burnt black coffee with only a teaspoon of sugar because she knows him -- they both know he hasn't the time, and even if he did, she backs away before he gets too close, before she lets herself get too close, and it's like it's already the end.

"I'll try to come back later, but.."

"Better luck in the morning. I'll be busy, you know. You'll have to fight off other customers for a seat."

"Don't I get this spot reserved by now?" he asked her, and there's -- there's a little breath of froth on his lip.

At least, that's what she told him when she stupidly glanced at his mouth, let her gaze linger for a fraction of a second too long too low because he _sees_ , of course he does; he sees _her_.

 

Kes meant it. Every word.

About the bread, about Wedge's mashed potatoes, about the constant, beautiful, loud chatter of everyone's voices complimenting each other's expressions of happiness throughout the year with gratitude. The good they had done or seen in others, the resolutions they wish to try to keep in the coming year. Their prayers for Cassian, silenced only the interruption of Bail laughing quietly to himself as he remembers the first time he had met a fifteen year old Cassian.

This angry, determined, spiteful boy working behind the counter of a _Taco Bell_ , yes. Part-time there and full-time at the local movie theatre, working towards emancipation and saving every cent for college already. He decided he would be a doctor when he watched his father bleed to death in front of his own eyes and decided he would be a surgeon later for the money -- for children, though, when starry-eyed, smitten, absolutely _in love_ Leia broke her wrist so badly a screw had to be placed in with her bones.

It's a happy origin story since no one else could eat eleven tacos just like that -- that stamina is what will keep Cassian among the living, he says, so take heart.

"When do we get to hear the story?" Leia wonders sweetly. Like Han hadn't stolen the entire tray of rolls just so she could knick nine of them fresh from the oven and they all didn't momentarily hate the both of them.

"What story?"

"The story of how Cassian and Jyn met! The story of how he asked you to marry him?" she pries, successfully getting everybody's attention on Jyn for at least the time being. "Was it romantic?"

"Not really," she uncomfortably mumbles, 'cause like, she was so spastic that day. And he was so gorgeous she might have died. "Everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. Grades were just posted, and I knew I was better than the marks I received. My roommate, Bodhi, couldn't afford his half of the rent. That wasn't an issue, only then we couldn't afford -- I was hungry," she quickly summarizes in short, smiling closed-mouth because these wonderful people are still strangers. Oh, no. "My boss threatened to cut my hours, too, since I had come in late to work again. A customer had thrown his coffee at me that morning, too. It was a very bad day," she frowns.

"Jesus."

"Except," Luke urges her, 'cause he just fucking knows. "Cassian walks in, right?"

"Exactly," she says softly. "My blouse was stained and my hair was a mess -- my life was a mess, and then he comes up to the counter with his kind brown eyes and soft-spoken voice, and it was.."

"Love at first sight?" At the foot of the table, Wedge has his cheek cupped by his hand. "They really must mean it when they say you can fall in love anywhere."

"In only a minute," Jyn surmises, looking down to her empty plate with only the finest hint of regret. She should have said something to him that day besides _thank you_. If only. I'm sorry I will lie.

"You look so sad, dear," Ben quietly says to her. "What happened to having hope?"

"I know what will cheer everyone up," Bail states for all to hear. The first game night was tradition, after all. With Leia, and it's been honored every holiday since -- every birthday, every special occasion, too, for clean, good fun.

Kes takes that second to gracefully bow out, though. He _did_ warn her. "Dinner was incredible. Truly great. I have to get home, though. I know. Unfortunate timing."

"Fucker," Han loudly calls.

"You don't get to bail! This is gonna be fun," Luke insists.

"Yes," Leia agrees since it worked so well with Han, too. The first time he came over to dinner and was accosted with _Monopoly_ , Bail thought it would be a fantastic way to get to know Han since this game bring out the best and worst of everyone. This game can split people apart or strengthen their bonds so they can face each adversary with resolve.

He got to see a lot of Han's character when Han robbed the bank, though, like outright actually robbed the bank during the musical chairs round by pulling a butter knife and beating Luke away with the couch throw pillow. Yeah.

"This will be so much fun," Leia insists, so giddy from wanting to believe the best that it has to be true.

And she wins -- of curse she wins -- since Ben oh-mercies and Kes acts so put upon as he sinks back down, gives Jyn this look that says he told her. He fucking _told_ her, so get ready to run.

There's laughter and screaming and crying and the most fun Jyn has had in months. What Kes didn't mention about the chair switching is that no body follows the expected clock-wise rotation; it's a mad free for all with Luke double-crossing Han from the left while he tries to go right, tries to elbow Wedge away from what will be Leia's chair 'cause lady-with-a-baby. "New rule, guests can't lose the first round."

"New rule, next time Han trash-talks me, he goes to jail."

"You want more coffee, Jyn?"

"Please," she laughs, keeping this steady little creep ahead as they each slowly pace around the table. "This is the most intense moment of my life."

"Just wait 'till the music stops," Wedge cracks. It's _Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree_ , and with this loud, choking laugh, he says, "We all may as well be dancing. If Cass were here --"

"When we see him next and bring this game out," Luke interrupts him. "We've added two more games' worth of money to this set so wealth is pretty finite. That was his idea. And he's weirdly obsessed with Free Parking."

"In real life, too," Jyn awkwardly? Contributes, oh, God.

Then Bail shouts, "Stop!" while the music slows to a pause, and it's ridiculous how they each scramble for a chair with their cackling, bubbling laughter, moreso than the sparkling bottle of strawberry daiquiri that glitters red in the cups on the table.

 _Of course_ , Jyn's the only one standing without a seat until rough, tender-hearted Han takes pity. "Honor calls," he quips, a compromise's forfeit. "Take my seat. I'm about to help my wife win the game. Anyone want popcorn?"

 

"They're lovely," she murmurs to Cassian. "Each of them. Lovely and kind and good. I like them."

In response, he scarcely even breathes.

"They're also insane," she counters, since this is the burden of the guilty; five months of nothing, and she can't quit talking, now. This room is so cold. Right from the start. I don't know which of them drives the Honda, but they can't park. And dinner was such a strange experience, such a -- a happy one. They're all wonderful, Cassian. You shouldn't leave them."

A nurse comes in and out. Cassian's breathing shifts lower then resumes normally. Feeling rather sad, Jyn just barely lets her fingertips rest ontop of his wrist.

"I think I pulled a muscle in my thigh trying to reach a chair in that game. Comparatively, you're still way worse off than I am. Halfway through it, though, Luke stood up on his chair so no one could take it. No one whacked him down, so remember that for next time. They each really want you to wake up. They hide their grief very well, as I'm sure you know. Ben was crying into the dishwater, and I think Kes was eating his feelings.

"You're going to have to wake up so you can tell them," she whispers. "I don't think I can anymore. I don't think I want to. At least, not _really_. They love you. And I do, and I'm sorry," she murmurs, dragging her other hand across her face. This is exhausting. "This is a mess. We'll figure it out. Or I will, since you're," she winces, "in this state. I've got you."

 

"Should we wake her?" Wedge whispers.

Grating, bright lights, her mouth is dry and her fingers are stiff. "There's no need," she yawns, sitting up and stretching and so taking her hand away from his where it's been all night. She doesn't notice how his fingers reflexively crease and straighten in the barest of movements, but none of them do. "I'm awake. Good morning."

"Merry Christmas, darling," comes Kay's voice from the doorway. And right as Jyn is about to remark _oh, Merry Christmas,_ , Kay meant Cassian, of course he did. His long, British legs take him to Cass's side in a second. "And to you, I suppose."

"Thanks."

"Does he not know?" Kes frowns between the both of them. Why else would he take that tone with her if he didn't know? It's the same tone he used himself. "Does he not know, Jyn?"

"Maybe now we'll get the engagement story," Leia says, trading Han's arm for Luke's so she can make it to one of the chairs.

"Well," Jyn slowly states, trying to _think_ , God damnit. Two truths and a lie -- she's so sorry, she is. "He only just proposed when we saw each other last Tuesday. He.. he was wearing blue," is all she's reduced to, meanwhile Han murmurs _aww_ like that's something poetic. Christ. "We hadn't told anyone yet that we're getting married."

"You're _what_?" Kay repeats. "In this economy?"

It's suddenly too tense, too warm in this room. "Yes," she manages.

"Is it so you can obtain a green card?"

"Kay."

"No," she frowns, because the implication of that sham engagement, oh, dear. Her voice cracks in panic, so the hitched edge of desperation does for her what confidence can't. "Because we're in love."

"Who gets married for love anymore?"

"What?" comes Cassian's dry, rough voice between them. Like it pains him, his head about to implode, he closes his eyes when everyone reacts at once: Leia's crying, Kes's _buddy, oh, my God_ while the rest share the same thoughts of _thank goodness._ Laughing and crying and holding each other too soon, because Cassian opens his eyes, stares at Jyn who has no reason to be here, and asks with his cracking voice, "We're what?"

 _Nothing_ , she swears. It's nothing; it's over now.

"Oh, my God," Luke says loudly to quiet down Leia's growing panic and Bail's father-like worry, Jyn's hasty explanation to apologize for this being so, so wrong, she's so sorry, oh, God, she didn't actually intend for this to happen; he has to know.

"What?" Cassian whispers like he'll cry right here on this hospital bed. The pain is worse when he breathes, and all their frightened, loving eyes staring down at him, oh, no.

"Oh, my God," Luke repeats theatrically. For good show, he crosses one hand over his heart and says this like it pains him, "he's got amnesia."

"No," Cassian strains, trying to make sense of this, the vacant white space that's so loud he can barely think.

"I'll find the doctor," Bail quietly resigns. "Don't crowd him."

"Do you -- do you know me?" Jyn asks him softly, reaching for his hand in instinct so sure, it has to be right. Just his eyes and hers, a truth and a lie, a breath of anticipation and focused, intent clarity.

"No," he whispers. "No, I don't."


	6. Living In Our Eloquence

"You don't know me?" she barely even  _breathes_ , oh, God. Oh, no. Oh, help, because this -- the sallow, sunken-in, terrified look on his face. All of her heart being ripped to flesh since  _of course_ she is thinking of the once he joked he wouldn't even forget her face because she had his coffee waiting for him at the end of his forty-eight hour shift and he could have proposed right there -- he nearly did, only he collapsed into his customary seat at the table by the window near the fake fireplace because he's a creature of habit and is perhaps only a little bit afraid of change -- he's so scared of  _failure_ , is the thing -- of not being enough and of being only  _Cassian_ who he knows people regard with the wary sense of self-righteous betterment when he passes oranges in the grocery store, like -- hell. Jesus. 

"Oh, bugger," she actually says next, whispers in this breath of grief that's clearly done her in. Send her down to the morgue. Speak at her funeral. Make a song for Achilles since she understands it now. Being dipped in that lake and condemned to all of humanity's gravest flaws. "I don't think I should say anything without a lawyer present," she decides right then and there.

"What?" Cassian murmurs, still staring at her like he's meant it, he doesn't know her as anything from before the insurmountable now. Take the chance, and it could kill him.

"What?" Bail's caught on too late. 

"What?" Luke snaps, because seriously, what more can he do.

Looking around to the tearful faces, Cassian tries again, "What?"

Pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes, Leia sharply inhales. "What."

Wedge makes a face. "Wh--"

"Enough!" Kes erupts, seriously going to develop an aneurysm. It's  _Christmas_. His miracle just woke up. "Cass, buddy. You feeling bad?"

"Buddy?" Cassian asks, wincing like it pains him -- his ribs, right, and each breath is like glass. "Do we know each other?"

"Oh, my God." And at once, Leia is beginning to crumble. The devastation on her face, though, isn't equal to Kes's, because when his knees buckle. When he actually has to physically force himself to breathe.

"Cassian," he gasps. "Buddy."

"I'm joking," Cass whispers gravely. "I know you. I love you," he mumbles more quietly, and hands are on him all at once:  holding, petting, feeling for breath and for life and for memory. For  _thank God,_ they're each talking all at once and laugh and weep and commiserate the bittersweet thanksgiving of Christmas.

"You broke my heart, you did," Kes is crying, and Jesus, he's up on the bed with him because this is a miracle in itself, too, the inherent goodness and warmth and safe-keeping that resonates from these Dameron boys. Just a touch or a look, and it's all better:  all of it, each sore and bruise and cut.

Han is holding onto Cassian's feet since what else can he do -- "Thank goodness," he keeps saying, and Ben weeps to himself with one of Cassian's hands in his, and Leia is laughing and crying and snotting a mess all over her red Christmas jumper, and Wedge is holding her and Luke; they've each got a hand on Cassian's leg to feel him live and sigh and whisper. Excited, gracious murmurs, relieved, fearful tears. It's Bail who comes to Jyn's side and gives one of his hands to her, the other to Cassian's sweet, sore face with a gentle, reassuring touch.

"I knew it," he says stoically, a true beacon of strength in this lapse of emotional overflow. "We're so glad to have you back, son."

"You know all of us?" Leia asks like she's just remembered, turning her fearful face to Jyn now, awkwardly still and struck in the silence of everyone's voice quieting from the lamentations of their woe and their happiness. "We're not crazy strangers crying all over you, right, Cassian?"

"I know you," he assures Leia. Only the one corner of his mouth raises in the quiet smile he gave to her the first time he told her his name. "You once stole my Celine Dion CD."

"And me, Dorothy," Han cracks, 'cause if ever there were a physical manifestation of courage, love, and brains.

"Especially you," Cassian says. "How could I forget?"

"So it's just --" Sympathetically, Kes is looking towards Jyn now; they all are, and it's just like that nurse from the hall who heard Jyn admit to wanting to marry Cassian. Countless pitying looks directed her way.

"It's okay," Luke announces confidently yet quietly. Like he isn't quite sure, though, 'cause being a hopeless romantic and an avid believer in goodness and hope and love and happy endings is something far from hospital rooms. "It'll be like an arranged marriage. Those guys hardly knew each other when they got married, too."

Cassian practically throws himself off the bed in shock; his monitor beeps, and six voices instantly shout at him to calm down, relax, and breathe,  _buddy, you're doing so good, just stay with me, Cass. Oh, my God._ "We're getting married?"

"Not anymore," Jyn automatically says. 

And then instantly regrets it with how this lot reacts.

"You can't leave him! He's just woken up!"

"We've changed her mind about him."

"It's Christmas! You can't break up with him on Christmas!"

"I meant," Jyn hurries to say,  because Cassian's closed his eyes to the noise and almost looks dead. "If he doesn't know me, then I'm sure --"

"He wants to get to know you," Wedge interrupts her. "Right, Cass? You want to get to know your girlfriend?"

"Betrothed," Luke corrects without thinking.

"Listen, we know you'll love her; she's a great girl," Wedge promises as he pats at Cassian's shin.

"Woman," Leia corrects.

"You know her?" Cass frowns, almost teasing. Almost. He's still much too pale and severe-looking for anyone to laugh.

"Well, we've all just met a few hours ago, really."

"What?"

"What," Kes glowers, shifting in the hospital bed with him so he can get his arm under Cassian's head. "You were the one that didn't tell us you were getting hitched. How were we supposed to meet her?"

"Same way I did."

"You remember?" Jyn seriously  _sighs_ in relief, oh, thank goodness. She makes his coffee, and he leaves, and that's it -- nothing more; he can tell them all the truth, and she'll just  _leave_.

( _"Okay, you got what you wanted," he'll practically curse, gripping the door in his hand so tightly that his knuckles bleed white. "Now you can leave. Leave, Jyn, I swear to God, just_ go,  _Jyn. Leave."_ )

"Katie," he calls her, like it's his own sort of understanding, this white light of clarity, but everyone else freezes in tension, so he.. God, he tries to swallow, but his mouth is like sandpaper. "Water," he sighs. "Can I--"

"Yes," Ben tells him, going to the sink for the pitcher and the cup for something to do, thank God. Then:  "Kes, if the physician sees you laying in there with him, you'll lose visitation privileges."

"They'll have to drag me away."

"To the death," Cassian weakly quips. Uncomfortably, he's looking at anything else but her, he's -- he's closing his eyes. He's trying to think.

"That wouldn't be your middle name, would it?" Han just  _has_ to ask. "Hey," he warns Leia. Try and smack at me again."

"I'll put you in the hospital next to Cassian," she warns without any malice. Then because she can't help it either, they're too into their own world of being wrapped up in each other, she murmurs, "Did you really think that might have helped?"

"She could have lied and made this easier for him."

"Because that will help," Kes mutters. "Lying to exploit the amnesiac situation."

"Well," Luke says.

"Well,  _what._ "

"We oughta get the doc.," he tactfully diverts. They need to let them figure this out.

"You're right," Bail relents, taking a moment to gaze at his best son's face before straightening up. "Best to both of you. We'll be just outside the door if you need anything, Cassian. Feel free to shout."

"Yeah," Wedge agrees. "See you in a bit, Katie."

"Oh, my God."

"It made Cassian smile," he defends, winking down at him. 

They each shuffle out hesitantly; it's the same loud yet soft chatter -- statements of joy that he's awake and alive, that he's speaking and seems functional and relatively happy to see them, all considering. Leia tearfully kisses his forehead while Luke lingers by the door, thinks that if it's meant to happen, it quite simply  _will_ , so it's the same old lang syne; they're trying to reach behind the emptiness.

They're both left alone behind the quietly closed door like it's fragile glass, the same weakness as that of his ribs since he still can't quite look at her, it'll all break apart, and the fractured edges on the outside of this scene that his family outside are looking in on in grief and in hope --  _oh_ , no. 

"I'm so, so sorry," she whispers finally.

It's like it echoes, though, and his heart rate soothes to something remotely normal; the sounds of hospitalization are terrible and loud and unforgiving. 

"It happened thoughtlessly," she tries again, since with the way his dark gaze slants onto hers, intent and focused and in part accusing. He has to know. She hopes he does.

"I could have stopped it," she continues since he doesn't move, nothing more than the rises and falls of his chest. "I could have done something, anything, I imagine. I can just -- I can go, if you want. That might be best. I can explain everything when.. well,  _now_ , but I--"

She sighs. And it's making her nervous, the quiet dexterity and the soft way his gaze lightens in darkness and with a likely dangerous pupillary response. She'll just chalk this experience off to a mistake and have Satan reserve her spot in hell -- this will be  _fine_ , only he begins to breathe like he's going blind. Like the air is a void, and it's all he has to remain in the light of consciousness where she just  _speaks_ like he might remember hearing from the deep sleep, the interim darkness that brightened like a flicker of light. Stardust. 

He's delirious in part because he's relapsing, for he manages something like a tired, happy grin that mouths, "You're pretty," before his eyes roll back and his heart stops. 


	7. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is where the parts you all actually want to read begin! The ending of this chapter moves our story into the next stage, as it is, and of course, it continues with good things up ahead! I hope you loves enjoy it! Reading your comments brings me so much joy!! <3

"I don't want to talk," Cassian said to her once instead of  _hello_. 

Like she understood, she nodded, thought once more that she was just so,  _so_ incredibly stupid because this is because of her -- she sees less of him because of  _her_ , Katie, because Jyn told him one day in a moment of insecure, defiant bravado, "You look lonely. You look like hell. You see Red over there? You should ask her out," because Katie's eyes were stuck on his biceps anyway, and then that Cassian actually did.

That he chose the next particular instant to decide their fate, really. Like it were resignation or an apology unfolding like hesitant, desperate rose petals crumbling in sedition, he walked across the shop to Katie's table with several more of their colleagues, sat opposite of her endeared, awed face as he fit right into their discussion of Oscar Wilde or Robert Burns like he wasn't an intruder or a figment of a fantasy but purposeful. Deliberate.

Fate doesn't really just happen, it's always been a deliberate intention, and that he found it within himself to make more of a hapless existence than cheap flirting and hands perpetually meeting in askance, well.

"Thank you," Katie actually said to Jyn after, hushed and glowing and radiant and beautiful. "I've been trying to get him to speak to me for months."

That's rather a bit the second they became friends, and that's how Jyn became privy to near every aspect of their lives without their meaning for her to be involved or not.

When they came out of his car and into the shop together one morning, it was official; Jyn remembers -- she does -- because Blondie was on the radio with her Heart of Glass fragile like fragments of a windshield, like glass on the pavement, like the shard of it broken in Cassian's face. They were laughing, and Jyn was happy for it at the time since she wasn't  _in love_ with Cassian. God know. She didn't even know him.

She didn't even care about him. But still, she was the first casualty, and baby Ben Organa might be the second.

 

.

 

"I'm taking her home," Han decides right then and there:  nurses, those paddles that make physicians shout _**"CLEAR"**_   like God Himself above is simultaneously threatening and warning and shouting and screaming **_"LET HIM DIE"_** with his merciful vengeance. 

"But Cassian," Kes snapped like it didn't make sense. They couldn't leave, not when fear gripped each of their hearts as they waited in agony for all that equipment and the technicians to turn towards Cassian's room -- it was a different sort of evil, wishing someone else, anyone else, Jesus, was dying.

"Yeah, and my wife," Han said, because Leia was crying again in breathless, choking gasps. An uncommon last minute of strength wasn't unusual while the cost of clarity is often death, and if he woke up just to die, to say  _hello_ instead of  _good-bye_ , then Leia isn't going to kill herself over it; she's not going to let the stress strangle her body so there's nothing left in her but emptiness,  _God_ ,  _no_ , "Come on, baby," he said, gathering her up in his arms because heaven forbid. Jesus Christ. She doesn't need to see her best friend actually freakin' die. "They'll call us later."

"I love you," Luke says automatically, reaching out for all of Leia he can touch as they pass him. His fingers graze the blue hem of her (Han's) sweater. And he thinks,  _what the hell. Did Jyn just try to kill him? Oh, God._

"This is fine," Bail calls gently, the wavering voice of reason. "He's going to be fine."

"Wife?" Wedge realizes, drumming his hands over his knees, shaking, shaking, because that same nurse from earlier, she brings an empty-looking Jyn out of Cassian's room and closes the door. "He said she was his wife."

"And he said he was Cassian's husband earlier," Kes shrugs. His eyes are the most painful shade of red; he's snotting all over his sleeve.

"They're married," Luke says quietly.

From the closed door, there's only silence, and since Leia would have been the one to embrace Jyn, she's just standing alone. She thinks again that she was going to marry him, and he had been hit by a car.

"They're not married," Ben piously affronts in mock-theatrics. It only seems appropriate, a blessed diversion of yet another peal of happy news that has been burdened by the world's unfairness.

"Yeah, in August," Luke says, rubbing at his eyes. "They eloped."

"This August?" Bail asks in fear and in... in happiness that hasn't yet tinged to sadness. She's always done things in her own time, beginning with her first word to her first apology. It's the testament of fathers. "They got married this August?"

"No, last August," Ben corrects thoughtlessly. When they turn to stare at him, though, he just rolls his eyes like he might have done hundreds of times as a young man. "I  _was_ there, mind you."

"We were witnesses."

"It's been more than a year," Kes says. "Why's no one talk about marriage anymore?"

"Is that why they left?" Wedge asks obliviously. 

"They left because of the baby," Luke just -- just blurts out like come what may, hell and high water. When you start telling the truth, you often can't stop. "Han won't tell Leia, but he's worried about childbirth because our mom wasn't strong enough to survive it. He doesn't want it to happen to her, so he's been driving her up the wall, just crazy protective and obsessive." The ways men show they care. "They were gonna share the news at Christmas dinner."

"Like baby Jesus," Kes cracks so he doesn't start to open-mouthed sob -- Bail already is. Crying into his hands and sighing deeply. 

"Nothing is happening as planned," he says, and it doesn't quite make sense. 

 

.

 

"He asked all of you to leave," the nurse finally tells them.

"Over my dead body, we will!"

"Kes," Bail warns. "But he's alright? He'll recover. There was no damage done by the.." He can't say it.

And neither, it seems, can the nurse. "He's very tired," she says, tight-lipped. "He's requested all of you go home and leave him be."

"That's what he said?" Wedge frowns, and oh, their poor breaking hearts. "He doesn't want us here?"

Awkwardly, the seconds pass by. The television in the waiting room startles poor Ben because the music for  _Family Feud_ is so ungodly loud.

"No," the nurse sighs, glancing down at her clipboard. "He kindly requested you lot leave him here to die which I've graciously interpreted as his want for some much deserved peace and quiet. Now, you've all been too loud and too rowdy, and if you didn't have a military personnel with you, I'd have kicked you out yesterday."

"Okay, that's fair," Kes mutters, mostly since it's true.

"Yeah. Come back 8am tomorrow, no sooner, and thank you for your service. Good night."

"Thank you," Kes calls back to her, oh-so conscious of his tags. "Well, that's awful."

"He sounds like himself at least."

"Jyn? You need a lift home?"

"Um," she stalls, because she doesn't quite blame them for not addressing her before now. It's just. It's just a self-preservation thing, really. "No."

"Oh, you don't have to leave, dear," the nurse sweetly directs to her. "I mean, not before visiting hours end. He said you can stay, just don't overdo it. He needs his rest."

"He's picking a girl over me."

"He wants to meet his wife," Bail says sympathetically. "We'll visit in the morning. He'll be fine."

"We'll be fine," Ben agrees, and it's -- 

\-- it's another dreadful sort of quiet. 

It's being alone yet again as if she's lost in some hellish version of transit purgatory. After the customary good-byes, the door handle is like ice, and she isn't sure what she was expecting when she entered his room. Maybe she half-expected his corpse since everything else has been a lie; why wouldn't he really be dead?

And not really knowing what to do, not truly sure if this even matters, she slowly comes to his side of the bed and moves the chair too loudly across the floor, sits next to him with the same kind of hesitance strangers rightfully own of themselves. 

"We can.. we can hold hands, if you want," Cassian says to her quietly, uncertainly. 

"I'll just sit here, thank you," she curtly dismisses. And then cringes, for that's not how a loved one would react to their fiancé's request for something the body would find familiar if the mind couldn't. For something tangible in a hospital full of strangeness. 

"Do we not hold hands," he feels silly for asking. "Are we not affectionate?"

"You died today," she tells him quietly, hates having to readily say since it is true. Because it happened, and she in part feels like she died, too, having to see him lay there like death were sleep. "I think questions can wait. I think honesty can wait," she means, flippantly corrects like he ought to understand it; this is her trying to tell him, perhaps, but since it isn't a line he feels compelled to act on, interrogate.

"Talk to me until I sleep," he asks her. And after, she'll realize this wasn't him trying to make sense of the situation and search for intricate lies that conceal the truth or permeate the fallacy. This was him being desperate. And scared. And more vulnerable than exposed nerves and a bruised body and damaged brain cells. "It might help. I want to remember," he says,  and his voice does this thing, this lilting, sad thing. "I don't know how I could forget you."

"Oh, Jesus," she swears. "Oh, no. This is like an awful soap opera. Don't flirt with me," she warns him. "You might not even like me if you knew me."

"But I did. I  _do_ ," he corrects, frowning and sleepy. "I trust my judgment."

"But I don't," she swallows, trying to make light of this because it feels right to -- to smile. And put his weary mind to ease.

"Am I marrying you so one us might attain citizenship?" 

"What?"

"For tax purposes?" he asks, saying it in a way like it's been honestly driving him crazy. Like it may have killed him, Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. "Is that why?"

"No," she snaps, angered by this sham of an idea. "Why would you assume that?"

"I don't know that I really love you," he yawns, turning his face into his pillow. "I don't know that you love me, like, really, deeply love me, and I want that," he admits. Whether or not the candor is from drugs or sleep-deprivation, she doesn't know, but she thinks the latter is what he meant -- what worries him about the uncertainty. "I feel I should know you."

"You will," she murmurs, suddenly feeling like she might cry. "You might again."

"I hope so," he says. For all other intents and purposes, he's asleep.


	8. The Weather Outside Is Frightful

"I don't quite understand what you mean," Jyn says to the nurse -- the doctor. The one with perpetually hand-ruffled dark hair who comes to the coffee shop each Wednesday morning near six for a bagel and a mocha latte. He must be a friend of Cassian's which really just makes her laugh. There's a prayer board outside of his hospital room where his peers and fellow employees lament their well wishes and woes for his current state, but this fellow here, this stereotypically sincere and ultra-motivated cardiologist named Kevin, he's looking over the chart even though he has no clearance to do so beyond being a friend of the patient.

"I don't understand the effects of, what are you calling it? Residual--"

"We think it's trauma or stress-induced. It'll clear up," Kevin says with a heavy, sleep-deprived sigh. "We're all pulling for him."

"Well, fantastic," Jyn dryly remarks. "That'll clear his amnesia right up."

"This isn't the plot of  _Grey's Anatomy_. We have no reason to suspect this is a permanent symptom. Give him a few days. If he remembers Katie, then he remembers the break-up a few weeks ago, and if he had enough conscience to ask about the patient he was treating on the morning of the accident, then his amnesia is selective at best. It could just be fogginess of the mind. It will clear."

"Is that your professional diagnosis?" she says too quickly, too harshly. She really doesn't mean to sound so tactless, but if Cassian does remember all of that, then there's -- there's no reason why he won't remember anything else. Or rather, the lack of anything else, the lack of her presence in his life because there is no life of his she's involved in to any extent. God. She's almost out of time.

"Retrograde," he blinks.

"What?"

"You said residual. The term is retrograde."

"I said, tell me what's wrong with him or I'll have you banned from the coffee shop until I die." And she is dying. Like actually, honestly dying, for each second could be the one where he realizes he doesn't remember any of this because it isn't  _real_. She's messed up. She's messed this up so  _profoundly_. Imagine if when Jane Bennett had fallen delirious with fever when she spent time at the Bingley's residence on her sickbed, that upon waking up, Mr. Bingley said to her, " _My dearest, the fever must have struck you so that your memory has faded. Surely you remember your union to me -- we married just this spring, and you had roses in your hair,_ " despite his having no sense of claim upon her, no reason to believe she wished it besides the reader's knowledge that she did, in fact, though Bingley wasn't considering the implications of his lie when Eliza came to visit, right? Now he has to convince her entire family. Now he has to falsify documents. Now he has to agree to a duel with Mr. Bennett where Mr. Bennett will surely die in valiant effort to rescue his daughter from such a charmed, unarguably perfect life. Jane wouldn't really complain -- couldn't, for she didn't seem too fond of nature, so what are rocks and mountains to men?

"Are you alright?" he asks her in typical, inquisitive physician's concern. "It must have been traumatic. Seeing your boyfriend be hit by a car. You want a psych. consult?"

The urge to laugh is too sudden. It's gone just as it's come, though, because Jyn feels like if she shows any emotion at all, she'll end up crying. It's worse than the finals crisis of Spring 2016. There weren't enough Cheez-Its in the world. "Actually, yes. Thanks, please."

 

.

 

"Here," Jyn says, thrusting the little slip of paper into the hands of the priest. "I have a confession."

Appropriately befuddled, the old clergy who quite simply isn't paid enough just sighs. "I understand why you would think this is the psychiatric ward, but this is the chapel. Would you like to say a prayer?"

"No, I want to confess. I want to leave this existential plane and go the fuck to bed," Jyn hisses, closing the black curtain hanging above the little chair against the wall -- the best this hospital chapel has got in the way of privacy. "You know what he said to me?"

"Who?" the old codger grunts. God. He slides his own chair over under the pretense of offering counsel, wooden legs screeching.

"My fiancé. He was hit by a car."

"Goodness," he starts, making the appropriate gestures of apology. "I'm so sorry."

"Please, it was going, like, maximum twelve miles an hour. Christ. I'm so finished with this entire situation. Cassian could have just gotten up and shrugged off the glass. Went about his day like he might if this was 2002 and no one had health insurance. Back then, you just kept walking, right? You couldn't afford to be this dramatic."

"I hardly think that's fair."

"Do you know what retrograde amnesia is?"

"I've no experiences with it personally."

"Aren't you hilarious," Jyn sinisterly accuses, so angry now that she can't find it in the goodness of her soul to stop; anger at the antics of the past couple days is spiraling in her and out of control, and to her, this is akin to being under oath, swearing it all,  _so help her, God._ "Aren't you a riot. Might you have considered comedy instead of the ministry? I didn't come here for jokes.  _He_ makes jokes. He's up there on his death bed, and he's saying things like:  I feel holy. And he'll point to the stitches on his face. Or he'll say:  So you're my fiancée, then? Can't  _you_ give me the bed bath? And I don't know how to deal with it. I don't know how to handle him."

"Premarital nerves," he suggests, sighing boredly. "A woman is to be submi--"

"Stop it right there," she snaps. "Don't give me that. This isn't about insecurity or being  _shy_ or scared of him since he's such an attractive man. I've literally only just met him in the capacity of an actual human being. It's uncomfortable."

"Oh," he resigns like he gets it. "You met through some dating site. The relationship is still new and exciting."

"No, no.  _No_ , it's like this, see -- he would come into the coffee house I work at and order something, and I would give him his change, and that's that. Now we're getting married."

"Love can occur anywhere, child."

"No," she tries again, so frustrated that her head smacks against the wall. "He's amnesiac. The accident made him amnesiac. Or it didn't make him amnesiac at all; he only has no memory of being engaged to me because I lied about being engaged to him, right?"

"No," the poor man gasps. "No, ma'am, that is very wrong. You go up there and tell him it's a misunderstanding. Oh, my word."

"But I can't," she just about sobs, pinching at the bridge of her nose. "His entire family thinks we're engaged, too. His uncle and.. all of them. Do you want to know their names?"

"If it would help."

"Bail and Leia and Luke and Ben and Han and Wedge and Kes," she recites, once more just so,  _so_ sorry to have to leave them when this gets all cleared up. The large family she's really always wanted since it's so easy to want what you don't have. To hope against hope for a way to get it, one that doesn't involve death and deceit and the brownest eyes she's ever seen. Help her, God, literally  _God_ , now's the chance for a sign, a moment of guidance. "Ben's older than you, I suppose. He has a weak heart and a history of strokes, I think, and if I told him the truth, he could die," she stammers. And like with angry, like with the truth -- once she's speaking it now, she can't seem to stop. "Leia's pregnant. She's been so kind to me, like a sister, and Luke listens. Bail holds them each together. Wedge has been so supportive, and Han just loves Leia so much," she sighs. "So much you can see it. And only hope you get to experience love like that, y'know? I get the sense he first put up with Leia's family for her, but now they're his, too, and if they could welcome him into their unit, then there's hope for me. Or would be," she trails off desperately. 

But even if she were to have let things progress between her and Cassian naturally, she wouldn't have wanted it. She wants too much else, but it's like she's forgotten it, too. What it means to have a family.

"You forget Kes."

"He's beautiful," she sighs. "So beautiful. And so nice. Well, to other people. To people he loves, I guess." She shakes her head, not that the priest can see it, and finally just opens up the curtain. "They're all wonderful people."

"They aren't  _your_ people, though."

"We could just get married," she shrugs, skeptic even as she voices it aloud. "It wouldn't be the worst thing."

"It would be a lie."

"You could argue the fact in a court of law, though. There's some discrepancy there."

"I would tell him," the priest says. "I would tell him, and then I would leave the country."

"Oh," Jyn says. "I was hoping the reaction to the truth wouldn't be so dramatic, y'know. One day, we could have a laugh about this. Like, over a glass of wine."

"Where he'll wish you hadn't told him," he deadpans, almost accusing. "Because he'll be so in love with you?"

"Excuse me," Jyn affronts. "No."

"If I were him, I would take out a restraining order."

"Well, okay."

"Baze," someone -- the real priest, judging by the dress robes -- calls, and oh, no. Oh, God. "Where did you move to?"

"The confession chair of shame," he answers, slapping his hands on his knees before he rises like he's going,  _well. You're kinda crazy. I'm going to go hold my boyfriend's hand now_. "You'll never guess what this girl's gotten herself into."

"Oh, no," Chirrut sighs, coming across the aisle with a kindly suppressed smile of apology. "Don't antagonize the child."

"I'm not a child," Jyn manages, thinking just.. just  _leave_. 

"We're all children of God," Chirrut calmly pacifies. "This is His pasture."

"This is His psychiatric unit," Baze teases, glancing down at Jyn's reddening face. "Chirrut, love. Suppose one day before we had met, you had hit your head. When you woke, I was standing over you with claims of being your husband. How would you feel?"

"Thoroughly blessed," he quips. 

"Damn straight."

"Understandably doubtful."

"There we go," Baze cracks.

"Maybe suspicious. How could such a soothing voice come to have loved me? I don't deserve its patience."

"Okay," Jyn interrupts, 'cause this -- this is getting too private. Too intense. It was like watching Han absentmindedly move his hand from Leia's waist to stomach; his smile was too intimate for anyone else to see. Much like this, she feels intrusive. She feels lonely. "I'll tell him," she decides. 

"If you actually do, little sister, come back with the story. We'll buy you a Jell-O cup from the cafeteria for sympathy."

"That's very generous of you," Chirrut acquiesces as she goes. Then more quietly, to Baze, he murmurs, "What did I miss?"

"The barista from Cassian's coffee shop. I think we'll be invited to their wedding before the year's out," he says.

"Oh, truly? About time!"

 

.

 

"Oh, good," Cassian sighs when he sees her. "You again. Listen, I need something from my home."

"Call Kes."

"Okay, let's try again," Cassian frowns since that didn't work like he had anticipated as he lay there imagining the conversation and appropriating himself all elements of cool composure. "Do you live in my apartment with me?"

She seizes. Now or never, she understands, but she's more cowardly than she previously thought. "I don't officially," she surmises, thinking that it isn't quite a lie -- not really.

"What does that mean?"

"I still rent my apartment with my friend Bodhi."

"Oh," he says. Like he knows. "Do I get jealous of him?"

"Terribly," she teases half-heartedly. "I guess you could say we fought about it once," she says, just.. just hoping for the best. Just hoping for something more. Why couldn't they just be happy?

"Did I apologize?"

"Not at first."

"What were we going to do about housing when we married?"

"We haven't decided yet. But you have given me more closet space," she fabricates. "It's been a slow process. One box of things at a time."

"Boxes of what?"

"What do you need from home?" she interrupts gently, trying to divert his mind away from the questions. 

"Nothing."

"Are you kidding?"

"No," he says without an ounce of shame. Then with a grin she's only seen in this hospital as a result from pain medicine, he continues, "I've never had a fiancée before. Can I ask you questions?"

"Why?" she wonders too tersely. She has to remember a doting, patient woman wouldn't be so brisk, though, and if she's going to keep the façade -- if she's going to let him believe this is real for however long, then she's going to have to convince him that she means this. She's going to have to convince herself. Too obviously, she tacts on, "Do you think it would help?"  

"I'm not sure. I know nothing about you, though," he tells her, more accurate than he knows. "I want to know you. We should date," he decides. Only he's said it in this certain, direct way, the same way his jawline said <em>fine</em> before he walked over to Katie's table. 

"When you're better."

"I feel fine. Come here," he says.

"Cassian."

"Jyn," he sighs, this crease between his brows furrowing. " _Jyn_. Dios mío."

"Are you -- are you okay?" she asks quietly. "The monitor -- your heart."

"I'm nervous," he says, gesturing like he's.. about to _laugh_ , "unplug it. I know my pulse is rising. It doesn't need to tell the nurse's station. Oh, my God."

"You're blushing," she realizes, biting her lip, suddenly endeared. "Cassian."

"Don't say my name like that yet. You're making me nervous," he sighs, too tense in the bed. "I don't know _you_. I need you to move this pillow, please. Behind me."


	9. Come All Ye Faithful

"Do we..?"

All eyebrows, all bruised, swollen, beautiful face, he stares at her.

She just stares right back. "Do we  _what_ _?_ _"_

"Are we -- Ms. Erso," Cassian corrects, gasping like he's about to fucking relapse, like the shock is actually going to kill him.

"Jyn. My name is Jyn. I've told you my name is Jyn, see?" she sighs, brushing her hair away from the nametag the nurse made her. "Jyn. You can call me  _Jyn_ , Cassian. You have before," she insists, which -- isn't really a lie.

 

("Jyn. My name is Jyn." She kinda just shrugs her left shoulder. Her nametag's over her heart.

"Like the song," he tried. "Jenny's number?"

Upon her blank look, he was going to, like, leave it at that like a normal human being, but instead he proved he stammered through pre-med school. "The poem?" he grimaces. "Jenny kissed me? The other song? Jenny's Got a Gun?"

"Janey," she winced.

"Oh, I misheard," he said. "It's so loud, the Mozart over the speakers. The lunch rush, right? Deafening. You're really very busy."

He was the only customer in the shop.

"You're selling all the coffee," he said. "It's all gone, Janey." He squints.

He threw up after assisting in a surgery and lost his contacts to the sink. 

"Listen, I said  _no."_

"I watched you pour out the last two canisters of coffee, I think."

"We don't offer free refills."

"I only have  _eighteen cents_ to my name.")

 

"Ms. Erso," he stubbornly insists, whispering like -- he doesn't know -- his mam's about to rise from the grave and break out a hope chest. "How serious is this?"

"Is what?" she whispers, half-hovering over him like this is a great conspiracy, the secret. 

"This," he affirms, trying to back his head away but hitting the pillow, pressing against the hard plastic frame. "Our relationship."

"We're getting married," she mock-whispers. "This is the real-deal, sweetheart. Sorry. I'm sure this is a surprise."

"Waking up with retrograde amnesia is a surprise," he says, sounding watery somehow, like God forbid his lungs are filling with fluid. "Leia thanked me for the Christmas gift I sent to her. She had to tell me what it was, and  _that_ was a surprise. Merry Christmas to me, too, _sweetheart;_ you aren't a  _surprise_." 

"Cassian," she warns, looking between his hard, angry face and the panicked beeping of the machine. "Perhaps just --"

"I think I know what my heart is doing, Ms. Erso, so pull the plug out of the wall, if you please," he orders, raising his voice to the low pitch of a threat. The asinine cutting tone that chills rooms and lays each insecurity bare, "I know the truth," he says. 

Everything in her freezes. "The truth about what," she begins, straining to keep her voice measured and earnest, but he just grips the arm rails so tightly.

Stares at her like he can't stand to even look at her. "Kes found no evidence of you in my apartment," he says. "And your name isn't in my phone."

 _Oh_ , she thinks with a gripping, painstaking clarity. _That truth_. How many more lies does she think she can keep? "Cassian," she whispers. Calmly, like she's trying to pacify him.

"What?" he interrupts bitterly, painfully; he's now holding his side. "Are you going to call your first witness?" He sighs, and he tries to move to ease the pressure on his spine. "Well?" he grits out. 

"You remember," she says, staring rather open-mouthed at him so comatose, him so angry. "You do, don't you? You know, oh, my God."

 

("Cassian," she had said. In laughter and in denial. In the misplaced redirecting that sees sunshine instead of stormy gray clouds, a large red  _X_ that obviously means he's off the market. She wasn't trying to place a bid, anyways; he's just nice to look at. He's just nice. She doesn't misinterpret him being friendly to waitstaff as him utterly in love with her, no, but sometimes she does envision their wedding and their marriage and the possibility of mundane domesticity if she'd ever just let herself have it.

"What?" he says, not looking up.

"I need all of this table space."

"I need to talk to someone who won't talk about a four year old's brain tumor," he says. "What's the case?"

"Second-degree murder," she winces. It's half-true. "The client claimed he was innocent."

"Was he?"

"I'm going to prove so in front of my professor."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," he says. A month ago, he might have smiled. "Want to practice? Call your first witness."

"I want more coffee," she murmurs. Just, she makes no move to get up, and even with Bodhi in the storage in the back, they're alone.

Days like these, she wants to drop out of law school.

Days like these, he wishes he had pursued history. He's teaching at a university and perpetually never wears ties, and she's the first and the last casualty; she's using her English degree for journalism instead of law. 

"What if," she begins to tell him, but lightning in the distance, a crack of thunder, and the lights in the shop go out.

From the back, Bodhi screams.

There's silence, and then there's nothing, then there's his hand so bare atop hers, so gentle, and so sudden. "Thank you," he tells her quietly, and then for all intents and purposes, he's gone.)

 

 

"I don't know," he says.

"Cassian--"

"I see you in the coffee shop," he remembers, just not in a tone that makes him sound grateful. "I see you blocking out the sun. I don't know  _why_ , Jyn, I can't see anything else."

"I can explain," she swallows, plaintively trying to just be brave. To offer up the truth like it will make any difference, like it won't end with  _good-bye_ and the loss of the people Christmas has given her. "I never meant for --"

"Merry Christmas," interrupts a low, preening voice from the door. "Or should I offer my condolences? My congratulations, Andor? You pick, baby doll."

"Christ," Cassian chokes. "Why, you slimy, double-crossing, no-good swindler," he actually says, bruised eyes beginning to tear. "Come give me a hug, Lando. I missed you, man."


End file.
